I find it hard to be around.
"
I have scarcely left you
when you go in me, crystalline
or trembling,
or uneasy, wounded by me
or overwhelmed with love, as when your eyes
close upon the gift of life
that without cease I give you.
My love,
we have found each other
thirsty and we have
drunk up all the water and the blood,
we found each other
hungry
and we bit each other
as fire bites,
leaving wounds in us.
But wait for me,
keep for me your sweetness.
I will give you too
a rose.
"
— Absence by Pablo Neruda
From the collection “The Captain’s Verses” (via iamapatientboy)
I feel paranoid and scared of everything all the time. Everything is out to get me. Every person is out to get me. I know I’m different and I can see the signs. I’ve read and seen enough to know. I’m going to kill myself. Not now but eventually. I can feel it, I can see it and I know it’s going to happen. Nobody thinks I’m capable. Everyone just thinks my depression is hormones, it’s not real, it’ll go away soon.
But it’s not going away
And I can’t go a day without thinking of all the ways I could go through with it. But no one listens. So they’re all going to wake up one morning and I’ll have done it at night in my room and my mom won’t know where I am and shell call my cell phone and she’ll call my name and she’ll call the cops and she’ll search the house and find me in my room and the next day everyone will be brought into a school assembly and the principal will tell everyone and nobody would have thought it possible and they’ll all wonder what it was and they’ll all blame themselves
And they should
Because no matter how much I scream
Nobody ever listens
